Chocolate Bar
by LeighPancakes
Summary: Bruno loved his house's handrail and his friends. Shmuel loved his family and his friend Levi. Now all is gone for both of them, but at least they have each other to talk about their past. T for being Holocaust-themed.


Bruno glanced around his room. He felt so bored. He didn't feel like reading those thick books his tutor gave him, crammed with words he didn't even understand and with strange messages between their lines that everyone but him appeared to catch immediatly.

He thought about Shmuel. Would he be sitting next to the fence? Or would he be playing with his friends inside the labour camp? When he watched his father's comrades' video about Auschwitz, he felt so jealous. Shmuel had friends, nice playgrounds and such a relaxed lifestyle, and still he complained! Bruno couldn't believe it. If Gretel and Dad said Jews were so bad, why would his father's soldiers give them more luxury than to them, the family of their commandant? It made no sense to Bruno's nine-year-old mind. But still, something didn't quite make sense for him. The people in the video wore regular clothes, just as his or his family's, while all the people he saw inside the labour camp wore torn, ragged and filthy striped pajamas, and Shmuel had told him the soldiers had taken all of their clothes when they arrived there. Bruno racked his brain to find a good reason for this inconsistency, but he couldn't.

When he had found out his friend Shmuel was a Jew, Bruno's mind had reeled, remembering everything Gretel and their tutor had told him about how Jews were parasites of the society that should be eliminated, how Gretel had ruthlessly described Jews had no souls and were demons installed in their world. But still, he couldn't help but think Shmuel was a good boy, a friend he could talk and a brilliant checkers player. Another inconsistency his innocent mind couldn't explain.

Bruno walked downstairs, his hands inside his short gray pants' pockets. He had decided to visit his friend Shmuel. Perhaps he could give him some bread, or even some chicken and cheese if Maria wasn't in the kitchen.

_Ding-ding-ding!_ Bruno heard inside his brain as a victory sign, like when he played games in the Berlin fair with his friends. Maria was cleaning Gretel's room, so she wouldn't go downstairs in a while. Free path to the kitchen, he would make sure to prepare something delicious for Shmuel. Maybe he could even take some fresh milk for him – he could just tell his mom he'd been feeling thirsty and drank what was left of the milk bottle in the kitchen.

When he reached the gastronomic court of the Hoess household, he looked around for something yummy. Since it was early afternoon, about three o'clock, he had just had his lunch a couple of hours ago, so he didn't feel hungry at all. Yet his mouth watered when his eyes caught sight of a beautiful looking chocolate bar. Should he eat it? Or should he give it to Shmuel? That was always Bruno's biggest mindrack when it came to preparing some food for his Jewish friend. He felt tempted to stuff the whole bar into his mouth, but he also knew Mom would get angry at him, plus he knew Shmuel loved chocolate and it would be cruel to lie when he asked if he brought any chocolate. He finally resolved he'd bring it too, and share it with Shmuel.

He stuffed the chocolate bar into his pants pocket, and proceeded to prepare a nice sandwich for Shmuel. He grabbed some of the bread that hadn't been eaten during lunch and cut some French cheese. Right, now he only needed to find chicken, turkey or some other food to give the sandwich a better taste. He searched around the kitchen, but only found ham. Bruno knew Shmuel wouldn't eat the sandwich if it included pork, since he had told him the other day that his religion didn't allow eating any food coming from pigs. Still he had eaten it, emphasyzing how starving he felt, but asked Bruno to try to bring something different for the sandwich next time, for he knew his father would get angry at him if he told him he'd eaten pork, and Shmuel didn't like hiding things from his dear father.

Bruno was about to surrender and stop his search when his hand touched a soft, delicacy that would make anyone semi-hungry long for it. Bruno grinned as he found the remains of yesterday's diner: chicken stripes. They felt cold to Bruno's touch, but he guessed it was better than nothing. He quickly stuffed some stripes into the sandwich, and then placed it inside the back of his pants, trying to hide it from anyone who could possibly see him.

Bruno ran out of the kitchen, ready to go visit his friend Shmuel. But a tall figure stopped him from doing so. Just as he flew by the living room, only a few steps away from the door he found himself face to face with Maria, whose brow was deeply furrowed.

"What were you doing in the kitchen?" she demanded, rather angrily.

Bruno covered the sandwich in his back with his jumper and gulped.

"Nothing, Maria," he lied. "I just cut some cheese. I felt hungry."

"You felt hungry, eh?" she smirked. She held her angry stare for a few seconds, which Bruno thought would be the worst of his life, but then the maid's expression softened as she patted the boy's head. "Don't worry, Bruno. It's okay. Just make sure to tell me when you want some cheese, I don't want you to get cut with one of those huge, horrible knifes."

Bruno nodded hastily, wanting to run away from the maid, from the house, and just sit in front of the fence, with Shmuel in the other side. Talk to him, laugh, play checkers, tell stories, or just sit there watching the little starving boy eating his sandwich.

"Where are Mom and Gretel?" Bruno asked finally, as the maid was about to leave, back to Gretel's room.

"They went to town to buy some clothes," Maria answered. "They'll be back in a couple of hours."

Bruno nodded. He knew Dad wouldn't be back until dinertime, so he had enough time to visit Shmuel until the whistle man called him and made Shmuel and all of his friends run to him, carrying those heavy-looking carts.

"Uh, okay," he answered slowly. "I'll- um, I'll be in the garden. In the swing."

Maria nodded carelessly as she walked upstairs. When the maid disappeared, Bruno's tense expression calmed down, and he smiled slyly. He knew Maria wouldn't bother looking for him in a couple of hours, so he could happily go to meet his friend Shmuel without any urge to come back home.

Bruno dashed outside and ran past his wheel swing without even glancing at it. He flew past the house door and raced down the forest. He knew the path to Shmuel's fence by heart. The first couple of times he'd tried to visit his friend, he had gotten lost and had wandered around the forest for a good half an hour, thinking he might even be lost. But now he knew the path so well he wouldn't get lost.

The boy jumped over the small stream, trying not to get his shoes wet, and then sat down in front of the fence, peering at the workers behind it. They carried hammers, wood planks and unpleased, starving faces. They were all extremely skinny, with really pale skin. Some of them had completely white eyes, and their limbs looked like bones covered by a thin layer of skin. Many of the men inside had large hook noses and black, shaven hair and thick lips, with dark brown eyes. Others had blond hair and blue eyes, and looked just as starving and fearful as the brown haired ones. Bruno's brow furrowed when he saw a young adult, a teenager around seventeen, looking at him. When their eyes met, the boy spat at Bruno, whose eyes widened in surprise. Of course, the spit didn't reach him, for the boy was about thirty yards away from him, but Bruno still felt shocked about it. Why would that boy spit at him? He didn't even know him. Maybe he was just scared, or he was simply a rude man.

He held the sandwich in his back, in case someone inside saw it and took it away from him. Of course, they wouldn't be able to take it with the fence between each other, but Bruno doubted he wouldn't flinch at a starving boy's plea for some food. But he was not there to feed the whole camp, he was there to visit his friend Shmuel and to make sure he was okay.

Minutes passed by and workers kept on with their jobs. Bruno tried to find Shmuel with his sight, but found the boy nowhere. He felt worried about where his friend might be, but then quickly dismissed the thought of something dangerous happening to him – he was safe inside the camp. But what if he'd been punished or something? Bruno knew Shmuel was sometimes inside because he had been punished, although his friend never told him why or what did they do to him inside the wooden barracks, which Bruno thought of as comfy hotel rooms.

Bruno's expression lighted up when he saw his young friend running towards him with his heavy-looking cart. The boy wore his usual striped pajama, and glanced around nervously as he approached the fence. He left the cart aside and sat between the metallic stack as he smiled at Bruno and, most importantly, the sandwich and chocolate bar he held in his hands.

"Hi, Bruno," he greeted his friends.

"Here's your food," the German boy said as he approached his friend. When he handed him his sandwich, their hands touched for a second. Bruno's were clean and a normal kind of pale shade, normal in Slavs, while Shmuel's were full with dirt and a sickly pale tone that wasn't normal, not at all. Bruno watched how his friend devoured his sandwich, wondering if the boy ate anything aside from what he brought him almost daily.

"Thanks for the chicken, it was delicious," said Shmuel when he finished his sandwich, letting out a small sigh. Then he smiled at Bruno. "You're so nice, Bruno. You're my best friend."

"I thought you had your best friend inside," Bruno admitted harshly, crossing his arms. He himself had hoped Shmuel said that someday, but the boy's actual words did quite surprise him.

Shmuel shivered a little. Bruno thought he might be cold, but the truth was that the Jewish boy shivered from the memory of past times. He did have a best friend, until shortly before Bruno's arrival.

"I did," the Jewish boy told his new best friend in a faint whisper. "His name was Levi, and we were friends since we moved into the ghetto in Warsaw."

"What's that?" Bruno asked, since he hadn't heard the word 'ghetto' before.

"It's were us Jews lived in Warsaw," Shmuel explained. "Me and my family moved there until we were brought here three months ago."

"And didn't you live with the Christians?" Bruno asked, surprised. "I never met a Jew before, but I thought you would live in a normal house, with normal neighbors."

"We did, until the war started," Shmuel told him. "I have Christian friends, actually. Their names are Henryk and Jurek, and they are very nice boys. I haven't seen them since we moved into the ghetto in 1940. But it was okay with me, because I met my neighbor Levi. My sister Hanna was very close friends with Levi's older brother, Yozef. Levi and I would play together, and run around the streets of the ghetto trying to pickpocket some wealthy-looking Jews. Our houses were small, with only two rooms: the kitchen and the living room. Mom, Hanna and Grandma slept in the kitchen while Dad, Grandpa, Jaziel and I slept in the living room. Levi and I knew almost anything, so Hanna and Yozef taught us some things when they came back from working every day."

"I thought you went to school," Bruno said.

Shmuel shook his head and sighed.

"There weren't any schools in the ghetto. I only went to school one year, and I was lucky to learn to read and write, and to add and subtract."

"I know lots more!" Bruno exclaimed proudly. "I know how to multiply, and even divide! And I know History, and read adventure books. Maybe I could give you one some day."

Shmuel shook his head once again.

"The soldiers would take it away from me," he answered to his friend's offer. "But you could bring it here, so we can read it together.

Bruno nodded, thinking his friend's was a better idea than his.

"But please, keep telling me about Warsaw," the German boy asked.

"Okay," Shmuel said. Then he looked up to the sky. It was clear and there were no signs of rain. "Well, my family and Levi's spent a year and a half living in the ghetto. In that year, my little brother Jaziel died, because he got very ill. Mom said it was because he got lices, so she shaved me. Until then, I had blond hair that I really liked. I haven't gotten used to it yet."

"Four months ago, thousands of Jews from the ghetto were put into trains to come here and other places in Eastern Poland and Germany. My parents and grandparents, Hanna and I were thrown, along with Levi's family, into a train which took us here. When we arrived, Levi, Hanna, Dad, Yozef and I were put to work, while the rest, Mom, my grandparents, Levi's little sister Azalia and Levi's father, who was deaf, were taken to a special revision and never came back. Yozef always says they were killed. But I think Germans wouldn't do that. They told us they had died in an explosion almost a month later."

"So you live with your father, sister and friends, don't you?" Bruno asked. He was starting to feel sad for Shmuel and everything he'd been through.

"I wish," Shmuel sighed. "Levi and Hanna were taken away after our first week here, to work in a special job outside the camp, but never came back. Yozef is like my brother, and sometimes Dad and I hear him mourning in the middle of the night. We always let him cry because dad says it's the best for him."

There was an awkward silence between them. For the first time, Bruno saw his friend with tears welling up in his eyes. Now he knew Out-With wasn't such an idle, just as his father had depicted it. Shmuel only had his dad and his best friend's brother as a family. But again, there was his sister Hanna and his friend Levi, who would come back from their special job soon.

"I'm sure Levi and Hanna are okay," said Bruno cluelessly.

He didn't know what to say because he hadn't beared something like Shmuel's life in the ghetto or Out-With, he had always been a happy boy living in Berlin with his family and friends, no worries and spending happy afternoon pretending to be an aeroplane around the Gendarmenmarkt. He had always had his friends Martin, Karl and Daniel, and nothing like the loss of a family member had happened to him. Bruno felt guilty about not being able to understand his friend, not being able to know what he had been through. He couldn't even comfort him, because he didn't know how to.

"I've told you about my life in Warsaw," Shmuel said quietly. Then he showed Bruno a small smile. "Would you tell me about your life in Berlin?"

Bruno showed his friend a big grin and nodded. He had always wanted to tell his new best friend about his magnificent house back in Berlin, with the handrail he'd always slide down every morning, his friends, his school and the street where he lived.

"Sure!" he answered. "I lived in a very important street of Berlin, in a big house with a beautiful handrail that is perfect for sliding down from the second floor to the first floor, and to the basement too. I always did that every morning when I went to get my breakfast, although our maid Maria would always tell me not to do so. I had three best friends: Daniel, Karl and Martin. They are very nice kids, I'm sure you would like to meet them someday, perhaps when you get out of here you can come and have tea with us."

"I don't think my dad would allow me to go to a stranger's house," Shmuel said, shrugging.

"But I'm not a stranger!" Bruno protested. "I'm your friend. And I'm sure Karl, Martin and Daniel would want to be your friends too. Karl would show you how to play soccer, Martin would show you his stamp collection – which is quite amazing, by the way – and Daniel would lend you one of his awesome adventure books. I'm sure you'd love them. In our school, there are loads of boys to play with, and we always organized soccer matches in recess. In class we learn a lot, and it's usually a bit boring to say the truth. But it's really fun because Martin and I start playing noughts and crosses and Dani and Karl always tell us good jokes. Karl is usually the one who gets hit by the teacher, Herr Rotkehl, but that only happens every now and then."

"When we finish school, we always go back home together, and we pretend we're aeroplanes flying around Berlin. It's really cool because sometimes, if you close your eyes, you can imagine you really are a plane. I sometimes do it here, in the forest when I come to see you. You should try it sometime, it's really fun."

Shmuel nodded, and smiled enthusiastically at Bruno's story. The Jewish boy thought his friend had been so lucky to have such a nice life, with friends and family who were still with him and loved him heaps. He always had food to eat and water to drink, toys to play with and books to read. He didn't have to work and he had been gifted with being able to study every day. He didn't feel jealous, no, not at all. He simply felt proud because he had such a nice, happy friend.

"Thanks for telling me your story, Bruno," Shmuel said, smiling. "It's been really fun to know about your life in Berlin."

Bruno didn't say anything and just gulped. He couldn't say the same. Knowing about Shmuel's past had made him see his friend's life had been harder than his. But at the same time, it felt nice to know a little bit more from the kid who was meant to be his new best friend.

Bruno opened his mouth and tried to say something, but then he heard that annoying whistle and saw how Shmuel bolted up and grabbed hold of his cart.

"Bye, Bruno!" he exclaimed as he ran away, without turning back. "See you!"

Bruno was left there, staring at Out-With with a whirlwind of emotions filling his chest. His childish innocence told him everything was okay and that Shmuel would be fine, but doubt started gaining power inside him. He realized it had been an hour since he left the Hoess household, so he resolved it would be better to go back, in case Gretel and Mom were back home already.

As Bruno walked back home, he didn't jump over the stream, or pretend to be an airplane. He thought, just thought. Why had Shmuel's life been so hard, compared to his? Because Jews were parasites, Gretel had told him. But that couldn't be a reason for that. Again, he found himself racking his brain until he realized he still had the chocolate bar in his pocket.

He took the thirty-five percent coccoa delicacy out of his pocket, and looked at it for a few moments. Should he eat it? He actually felt somewhat hungry. He realized it would be half past four or so, and he already felt like he needed some food. But again, he didn't think he should eat it, having taken it as a gift for Shmuel he'd forgotten to give the striped pyjama boy. He started peeling the paper off, but then stopped and quickly slid it into his pocket as he started seeing his house in the distance.

He'd save it for tomorrow. Half for him, half for Shmuel.


End file.
